Читать книгу My Boyfriend and Other Enemies - Nikki Logan - Страница 9

THREE

Tash stepped out of the expensive vehicle onto the highest heels she owned. Their engineering had always seemed pointless, but she’d take the extra inches against Aiden any day.

‘I’m still struggling to understand why I needed to be invited to a party in my own honour?’ she said.

‘Think of it as more of a VIP escort than an invitation,’ he murmured.

Uh-huh. She would have believed that from his father, but not from Aiden. Although it was entertaining to imagine him as an escort. Upper-case E. He was slick, handsome and full of fakery enough for it...and he had the right body.

‘Something amusing?’

Tash forced her lips into a more serious line. ‘No. Just appreciating the architecture. I’ve never been inside this building.’ The second part was true, at least.

‘You’re in for a treat. It’s beautifully restored.’ His hand dropped to her lower back as he guided her up the stairs and through the ornate doors. Heat from his fingertips tingled through the soft fabric of her dress. ‘I thought you would have seen the glasswork, at least. That’s why we chose this as a venue for the launch party. And this time of day.’

She let her eyes drift up to the stunning stained-glass windows on the western side of the building practically glowing in the rich, low afternoon light. ‘I’ve seen them from the outside, of course.’

‘Natasha. Aiden.’ Nathaniel moved towards them, as dapper and handsome as ever. ‘Did you arrive at the same time?’

Aiden’s chin lifted the tiniest bit but it was enough to put paid to his lie about her needing an escort. But it was too entertaining watching him trip up on his own transparency to make a big deal of it. She leaned in for a kiss on each cheek from Nathaniel then glanced around the beautifully appointed venue. Up on the big screen her glass prototypes had been photographed and lit by a professional and looked about as good as the finished artwork would. The AV team flicked quickly through them in rehearsal for the speeches later.

‘This is all so beautiful. Are all your parties this lavish?’

‘Usually. Aiden sets a high bar.’

She turned her surprise to him. ‘This is your work?’

‘I didn’t personally choose the flowers, if that’s what you’re asking, but I do know the quality planners in town and how to get the best out of them.’

I’ll bet.

‘Will you forgive me?’ Nathaniel said. ‘The inexcusably prompt are starting to arrive.’

He waved his arm in a flourish and the visuals on the big screen ended with a snap as the lights sank in a subtle crossfade with the music that grew out of the silence around them.

And just like that, it was a party.

Aiden’s hand was back at her lower spine again but where before it had only tingled, now it blazed with un-ignorable heat. Either he’d developed a raging temperature in the last thirty seconds or hers had inexplicably plunged. So much so that tiny bumps prickled up all over her back.

‘Would you like a drink?’ he murmured, close to her ear.

How galling. That his charm and charisma should have actually had some effect. She spun away from his gentle touch. ‘You don’t actually need to escort me, Aiden. I’m quite capable of getting safely to the bar.’ Or not, since she didn’t drink much and certainly not at work events. ‘I’m sure you’ll have better things to do this evening than shadow me.’

And as the word slipped unconsciously across her lips she realised that was exactly what he was doing. Babysitting her. Controlling her arrival and departure and her movements while here.

Why?

‘Tonight is very important to my father,’ he simply said. ‘I’m on hand to run interference should anything go...wrong.’

Interference? By sticking close to her? ‘What is it you imagine I’m going to do here? Lie back on the bar and drink shots straight from the bottle?’

His blue eyes crackled. ‘I would pay good money to see that.’

‘I’m sure you would, given some of the other things you’re famous for spending your money on—’ she ignored his flare of surprise ‘—but I’ve been to many of these nights, Aiden. I know the drill. Turn up, look good and be wild enough to be interesting but not inappropriate. Intrigue but don’t offend. Generate speculation but not gossip.’

It was all about appearances. And buzz.

She fronted the bar and ordered a virgin cocktail in a fast and low breath. If he noticed the virgin part, he didn’t comment. The important thing was that it looked like something harder. But she’d be in full control of her faculties all night.

He frowned. ‘Is that what you think you’re here for? Entertainment?’

She turned and drew a long sip of her drink through the pretty glass straw. A clever and thoughtful touch given the focus of this evening. ‘This is a little different, I’ll admit. But the principle doesn’t change just because the date does.’ Not that he was her date... ‘The important thing is that I won’t be doing anything to embarrass Nathaniel in front of his associates.’

‘You think I’m worried about that?’

‘I don’t know what to think, Aiden. All I know is you’ve been playing me since the day we met and running interference—’ it felt so good to throw his own word back at him ‘—between myself and your father. MooreCo has already given me a massive commission. What more do you imagine I’m trying to screw him out of?’

His dark brow lifted. ‘Your word, not mine.’

Realisation rushed in, tumbling and tripping over astonishment. How stupid she’d been not to see it before. The straw dropped from her gaping lips. ‘You think I’m hitting on your father?’

For the first time, he dropped the casual veneer and that carefully neutral expression simmered with something else entirely. Something quite captivating in its passion. ‘He’s obsessed with you. And you shower him with your attention and your come-hither smiles and keep him dangling, helplessly, in your thrall.’

Come-hither? She wasn’t sure what offended her more: the suggestion that she was consciously trying to seduce Nathaniel or the realisation that any interest that Aiden had shown in her until now was purely strategic. ‘He’s a grown man, Aiden. I’m sure he’s managed to fend off women much more beautiful and much more skilled than I am in his fifty-five years on the planet.’

‘Then why the interest?’ he urged. ‘Why him?’

Her chest tightened. ‘He knew my mother.’

Aiden snorted and tugged her around behind a large potted arrangement, out of view of the arriving guests. ‘Then go hang your neediness on one of her other friends. Leave my family out of it.’

Her breath backed up in her gridlocked chest. The term needy cut her much deeper than it should have but something bigger than that stole focus. A clue about what this was all really about—and who this man really was.

‘Family? I thought we were talking about money.’

His nostrils flared wildly. ‘Because it’s always about money with you?’

It was almost never about money with her. Even with Kyle she’d believed he had genuine feelings for her. Money was just what brought them together. That and necessity. ‘I think that’s just what you expect. Because it’s the language you speak.’

He snorted. ‘You’re trying to tell me money doesn’t talk.’

‘It talks; I’m a realist. But it’s not what makes the world turn.’

She might as well have sprouted antennae; he looked at her as if she were from another planet. ‘Please don’t say love,’ he sneered.

‘I was going to say people. People are what matter, but, yes, love is part of that. For each other. For our families.’ She leaned on the word extra-hard.

‘You’d rather be loved than wealthy?’ Disbelief dripped from his handsome lips.

‘You say that as if it’s worse than preferring to be wealthy than loved.’

‘Maybe it is.’

She stared at him. ‘Is your mother like this?’

Instant granite. Eyes, face, body. ‘What does my mother have to do with anything?’ he gritted.

‘You are so unlike your father, attitudinally. I can only assume it’s your mother’s influence that has made you like this.’

‘Like what? Unlike you? If you are so damned hippy about love and people and flowers and sunshine, I’d have expected you to be more accepting of the differences between us.’

That would have niggled less if not for the peace-symbol tattooed on her ankle. ‘I’m not unaccepting of the differences. I’m just trying to understand them.’

‘Why? You don’t like me. You don’t want to be around me. What the hell does it matter?’

Was it possible that he was wounded by her lack of interest in him—way down deep where the bluff and bluster didn’t penetrate? She stared into those hard eyes and found it impossible to believe.

‘I guess it doesn’t matter.’ Though that didn’t stop her from being interested...way down deep where her protective veneer didn’t penetrate. ‘Except that you’ve made stalking me your personal project so I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.’

His laugh was short. ‘If I’m stalking you I’m doing a lousy job.’

‘No. Not stalking. Your brand of creepiness is much more overt.’

The moments the words were out, she regretted them. Not that anything he’d said to her these past minutes was particularly polite but branding a man creepy was quite an indictment. Especially when he was commissioning your next work.

He reeled for just a moment, astonishment vivid on his face. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever been summed up quite like that before.’

But she wasn’t backing down. She straightened and drained her glass. ‘What did the last woman you subjugated like to call it?’

His lips twisted and his eyes darkened and, in that moment, the little corner he’d backed her into shrunk just like Wonderland around Alice. Yet he still found room to take one more half step forward.

‘The last woman I subjugated begged me to do it,’ he breathed. His eyes flicked down and he stretched out a finger and ran the knuckle down the laces of her arty bustier. Instant heat rushed up into her chest and bloomed tellingly in her décolletage.

She twisted away from his cloying presence and crossed back to the bar. ‘Nice try.’ She laughed, one-hundred-per-cent casual and two-hundred-per-cent fake, and signalled the bartender for a repeat of her drink. ‘But I’m not buying it.’

He was right behind her. ‘Buying what?’

‘All of it. The charming, rich bad-boy act, the overbearing son, the interfering business partner.’

‘Are you saying I’m not all those things?’

‘Oh, you’re definitely all of them, but I don’t buy that that’s all you are. There’s something else going on. I’ll just have to work out what it is.’

‘I’m no mystery, Tash. What you see is what you get.’

She turned to face him. ‘You’re in business, Aiden. What you see is never what you get.’ She glanced around. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone over there I’m sure I should meet.’

She spun, skirts flowing, and left him standing speechless in her wake.

* * *

Tash Sinclair worked the room like a professional. Ten days ago, he would have imagined the wrong kind of professional, but now he watched her through a different lens. A Tash-coloured lens. One not quite so tinted by what he thought he knew.

She’d summed him up so accurately earlier this evening, nailed him to the cross of his own bad behaviour and then promptly ignored him for the next two hours. She flitted from guest to guest charming the men, engaging the women and drafting them into the ranks of Team Tash. She was exactly as she promised him to be: intriguing enough to have multiple curious eyes follow her around the room, but appropriate enough to give the tabloids nothing tangible—or even intangible—to work with. She’d brushed past his father several times and the glances they exchanged were carefully neutral, blank enough to give no cause for comment whatsoever.

Unless you were looking for cause.

Or was he still digging for something that just wasn’t there? Reacting to a decades-old incident that he still didn’t fully understand. Something had happened twenty years ago, something that had created tension in his extended family and a wedge between his parents. Something to do with a woman. And he’d grown up with the echoes of that event and the memory of his mother sobbing in the wine cellar where she’d gone not to be heard and cursing a name he’d only ever heard whispered by his aunts and uncles thereafter.

Porter.

That was all he knew. But it was enough to teach him an early lesson about fidelity. And about how many different things a man could be at the same time. Successful businessman. Loving father. Cheating husband. He’d learned to compartmentalise the same way his mother presumably had in order to continue living with—and loving—the man that could do something like that. They’d worked their way through it and onto another twenty years of marriage and Aiden had, too.

But he’d never forgotten it. Or the lessons it taught him about trust.

His eyes tracked Tash the length of the room.

‘She’s something else, isn’t she?’ The voice came out of nowhere, low and edgy to his left. ‘Have you slept with her yet?’

Aiden spun to face the question.

‘Something to look forward to,’ the man went on. ‘She’s a cracker.’

The disrespect and sheer contempt in Kyle Jardine’s eyes stabbed in below Aiden’s ribs. Hard and ugly. His curiosity hardened up into pure anger. ‘Harsh words considering you got rich off her back, Jardine.’

The mayor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Or she got rich on hers. Though, to be fair, she was on top more often than not.’

The urgent need to defend Tash slammed headlong into the unbidden image of her, all golden and glorious reared back above him. Jardine’s words should have been exactly what he wanted to hear. That she was the gold-digger he’d always suspected. That she’d slept her way to her present success.

Except, inexplicably, he didn’t believe that. Not for one moment.

That just wasn’t Tash.

‘I didn’t realise you were on the list for tonight,’ Aiden muttered, knowing full well Jardine wasn’t. Though it had been tempting to get him along to pick his brains about Tash. Turned out there wasn’t much brain there to pick amongst.

‘Admin error, I’m sure. I came with Shannon Carles.’

Right. His latest ‘cracker’.

‘I hadn’t realised exactly who your father’s ingénue was,’ Jardine went on, blind to the tension pouring off Aiden. ‘Should I give him a heads-up that there’s not too much that’s innocent about her?’ He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and Aiden had never had a stronger urge to step slightly away.

His fingers curled into fists of their own accord. ‘Her personal life is none of MooreCo’s concern. We’ve simply commissioned her artistic skills.’

‘I give that a week.’ Jardine snorted, swigging down the last of his drink. ‘She’s insidious.’

If he’d said anything else...any other word...

‘What do you mean?’ The question bled out of him. So maybe at least one part of him was still looking for evidence.

‘You won’t mean to. You won’t know quite how it happened. But one day you’ll have her toothbrush in your cabinet and her brand of milk in your fridge.’

‘That doesn’t sound too sinister.’ It actually sounded weirdly good. For a half a heartbeat.

‘She’s like one of those spiders that lures you in with the pretty exoskeleton and the seductive dance and then, once she’s got you, wham, not so pretty and not so seductive any more.’

He couldn’t really imagine either of those things. ‘She doesn’t strike me as the black widow type.’

‘I’m talking about the tears and the neediness that start.’

Needy. Hadn’t he used the exact same word himself, earlier? Aiden stared at Jardine and wondered if this was how he came across to strangers. Or, worse, to people he knew.

Maybe to Tash.

‘Classic bait and switch, mate,’ Jardine said, turning for the bar. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’

No. He was saying so much more, and he was probably saying it to everyone here. Suddenly those eyes following Tash around the room didn’t seem so benign. He scanned the venue, found Jardine’s date drinking it up at the second bar and reached for his phone.

He and Carles had at least two mutual friends. One of them was bound to owe him a favour.

Within ten minutes, Carles was shoving her mobile phone back into her purse and copping an earful from a very unhappy Jardine as they moved towards the exit. He couldn’t really stay without his date and she’d just received an urgent phone call from her marketing department....

Unfortunate, but necessary, she’d gushed.

Aiden had just smiled and held the door for them both.

As he turned back to the room he caught the tail end of Tash’s glance. Her relief was patent and he knew, without asking, that Jardine had likely been enjoying taunting her with his presence.

‘Jerk,’ he muttered.

‘I hope that wasn’t for me, darling,’ a familiar voice said from behind him.

He turned into the warmth of a familiar smile. ‘Mother.’

‘Well, I’m here. I hope this will be worth it,’ she announced. It had been years since Laura Moore had been to any of MooreCo’s events. The ribbon-cutting for the Terrace high-rise was probably the last. Corporate parties, unlike dinner ones, just weren’t his mother’s forte. She didn’t do well with all that pressure and no formal role to play.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he murmured, kissing her cheek. Though his purpose for asking wasn’t quite as solid now as it had been at eight o’clock this morning. This morning he’d believed that his mother’s presence might help to remind Tash that Nathaniel Moore had a loving wife to go home to. That there was a marriage about to be wrecked. And it might help his father, too, to have them in the same room at the same time. For the same reasons.

Maybe that was all he needed to be cured of this obsession he seemed to have.

Insidious. An ugly word from an ugly human being but he just couldn’t shake it. Tash had certainly wheedled her way dangerously close to out of his bad books, which was quite an achievement given how in them she’d been when he first walked into her studio.

He furnished his mother with something from the bar, topped up his own glass and then turned to search out his father.

‘Who’s your father talking to?’

Aiden’s heart shrivelled to half its size as his eyes followed the direction of his mother’s enquiry, but then plumped out again as he realised it wasn’t Tash. ‘Margaret Osborne. The wife of—’

‘Trevor Osborne, yes, I recognise her now. Goodness, the years haven’t been kind.’

Every part of him cringed at the slightly too-loud tenor of her voice. Guess that was what came of being out of the scene for so long—she’d lost her social skills when it came to business matters. Though he couldn’t even imagine her working a room quite as fearlessly as Tash, even at the top of her game.

He shepherded his mother across the crowded room until they caught his father’s eye. It widened with alarm—as well it might....

‘Laura?’

She leaned in for an air kiss—so she hadn’t completely forgotten how to be Mrs Nathaniel Moore—and then smiled at her husband’s surprise. ‘I know. I’m as flummoxed to be here as you are seeing me. Your junior partner invited me.’

His father seemed about as discomposed as Aiden had ever seen him. ‘You’re always invited, Laura. You know that.’ Dark eyes scanned the room and then flared even further.

‘Nathaniel, should we—?’ Tash appeared by Aiden’s side and then jerked to a halt at the immediate tension in his father’s body language. ‘Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.’

She turned her curiosity to his mother, who stood politely blank-faced.

His father quite literally couldn’t speak.

‘Laura Moore,’ his mother finally said, introducing herself on a smile, her dark brows slightly folded in. ‘And you are?’

‘I’m—’ Tash opened her mouth to speak but both men rushed to cut her off.

‘The guest of honour,’ Nathaniel said.

‘Natasha’s here with me,’ Aiden blurted, simultaneously. The surprise Tash turned on him very neatly matched his own. Why the hell had he said that? Was it because inviting his mother here tonight suddenly seemed like the worst idea ever?

Or was it because he didn’t want to be proved correct all of a sudden?

‘Oh, you’re the artist?’ Laura covered for both her momentarily inept men. ‘Nathaniel has brought home photographs of your work. Just lovely.’

Tash smiled and Aiden recognised it instantly as her game-face smile. The one she’d been feeding everyone here. The one she’d used with him the first few times they met. The fact that she couldn’t be genuinely polite to the wife of her biggest commissioner instantly brought his suspicion screaming back to the fore.

Why not—what did she have to lose? Or hide?

But her answer gave nothing away. ‘Thank you, Mrs Moore.’

‘Please, call me Laura.’

That offer seemed to actually pain Tash, but she kept the fake smile glued to her face. Was he the only one who could see how it paled just slightly at the corners?

His own frown deepened until it must have matched his mother’s.

‘Have we met?’ Laura queried. ‘You seem so familiar....’